


Canterbury

by eleanor_lavish, thepsychicclam



Series: Valiant Effort [27]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-18
Updated: 2009-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now in Canterbury, Elijah drinks and Orlando deals with funeral arrangements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canterbury

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Clammy.

Elijah stepped off the curb and jumped back, almost run down by a crazy small British car. He still hadn’t figured out what kind of cars they drove over here; a few BMWs but everything else just looked like small boxes on wheels. And the drivers. Elijah never thought he’d think that New York drivers were the sane ones.

Looking both ways multiple times, he finally ran across the street, just as a car zoomed around the curve. He could have taken a bus or a cab, but he liked walking. The streets of Canterbury were like a different world to him. He’d only been there for a few hours. They’d gotten off the plane, and Orlando had run off with his mother to take care of arrangements, both Billy and Dom had disappeared into the house…mansion…castle? It was the biggest fucking house Elijah had ever seen. He knew Orlando was rich, but he hadn’t realized just _how_ rich he was. Made Elijah look at Orlando in a different light.

Elijah had basically been up for around thirty hours. He dozed on the flight, but it wasn’t rest. He’d wake up every so often and hear Orlando and Billy talking or the soft sound of Dom’s breathing as he slept. The entire way over he tried to figure out _exactly_ what he was doing. Dom was Orlando’s best friend, Billy was basically his lover. Elijah was nothing, just the drummer in a band that he wasn’t even sure existed anymore.

On the street corner, Elijah spied the hanging sign for a pub called The Looking Glass. Elijah opened the door to the small pub; it was only one in the afternoon. The room was dark, low green lights hung above the bar and tables, and it was mostly empty except the pretty bartender and a man in the corner. Elijah went straight to the bar and sat down on one of the stools.

“Double shot of whiskey.” Elijah picked up a beer coaster and flipped it idly in his hands.

“A little early for drinking, isn’t it?”

Elijah looked up. The bartender was blonde and quite beautiful and giving him the warmest smile he’s seen in days. He liked her immediately.

“And aren’t you a little young to be drinking? You can’t be more than sixteen.” The woman grabbed a glass, filled it with whiskey, and sat it before him. He picked it up and gulped.

“I’m twenty. And I want to be piss ass drunk in,” Elijah lifted his wrist and looked at his watch, “about thirty minutes.”

Elijah watched as the woman pulled a stool over and sat down. She propped her elbows on the counter, rested her chin in her palms, and studied him. Elijah shifted uneasily under her gaze and drained the rest of his glass. She grabbed the bottle from behind her without looking and refilled his glass.

“First is on the house.” She took a swig from the bottle. “I’m Cate.”

“Elijah.” Elijah pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one quickly. He held her even gaze as he inhaled. “Is this supposed to be one of those ‘spill everything to your bartender’ moments?”

Cate shrugged. “Can be if you want to.” She cocked her head and smiled again. “You look like you could use a friendly ear.”

Elijah grimaced as he finished off the last of the whiskey. The rate he was going without any food or sleep he’d be drunk in no time. And that was exactly what he wanted.

*

Cate refilled his glass, and Elijah snapped out of his thoughts. He’d been there for almost an hour, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit buzzed.

“For a man who wanted to be ‘piss ass drunk in thirty minutes’,” she said in an impressive American accent, “you’ve barely touched your glass. But that could be because you haven’t stopped talking.” Cate smiled and reached across the bar. She picked up Elijah’s lighter and lit her cigarette, inhaling deeply and then exhaling, watching him closely.

Elijah didn’t feel drunk at all, but he’d only had two glasses of whiskey. As soon as he had started drinking, he didn’t feel like it anymore. It had just made him nauseated. Instead he talked like a floodgate had opened up inside of him. He told her about everything: the band, Dom, school, David, Orlando’s dad, Dom’s hospital incident, even about Dom’s damn ridiculous fish in the fish tank back in New York. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. He gulped down the glass quickly and Cate filled it again.

“I’m sorry, Cate.”

“Love, I’ve heard everything from stories of people cheating on their spouses to attempts at killing people. At least your story was interesting.” She flicked the ashes from her cigarette into the ashtray between them, overflowing with ashes. “But love, you need to lighten up. You’re only twenty. You should be having the time of your life, not worrying if that Dom bloke loves you or if the band is going to fall apart or anything else.”

Elijah lit another cigarette. He’d smoked half a pack in an hour.

“I’ve decided that my new plan is to find someone to be with, that’s not Dom.” As soon as he said it, he tried to make himself believe it. He’d been trying to make himself believe that same thing for the past couple months. But one ex-boyfriend later, there he was in a bar in England, drinking and thinking of nothing but Dom.

“That’s not what you want. Though this Dom bloke sounds like an ass.” Cate crossed her arms in front of her.

“He’s really great,” Elijah gushed, leaning closer and grinning broadly. Elijah could sit there and talk about Dom for hours, about how fucking smart he was even though he’d never been to college, how much of a talented and gifted musician he was, how with one look from those pale blue eyes he could disarm Elijah for days. Elijah knew every scar, every tattoo and piercing, every lilt of his voice and stupid joke he made when he was nervous. He realized what he was doing and shook his head, draining his glass again. “You know, if Billy weren’t gay and in love with Orlando, I’d say you were perfect for him.”

“Why do you say that? I’m sure he could do better than a butcher’s daughter from Liverpool.”

“I don’t know. You're just really awesome, like your easy laugh and how you just listen.” Elijah tried to come up with the right words, but he couldn’t describe why they would work in his head. “He’s intense. Fucking hysterical, great guy. One of the most talented musicians I’ve ever known. Just fucking amazing. But way too tense and uptight, especially recently. You would balance that I think, but in a good way instead of a violent way. Hell, I don’t know what I’m rambling about. I’m exhausted, jet lagged, starving, and only a slight bit drunk.”

Cate laughed. “I’m always perfect for the gay men. I wonder what that says about me.”

“You’re wonderful,” Elijah said, giving Cate a genuine smile. Part of him felt he was in love with her, but he figured she was just that kind of woman. Classically gorgeous and pleasant, and the most sympathetic listener Elijah had ever met. No one listened to him anymore; hell, the guys barely talked to him anymore. It was nice to have someone to talk to, even if she could do nothing but give him generic advice and free shots of alcohol.

“You are too, Elijah. I don’t even know why you doubt yourself. If Dom doesn’t want you, then it’s his loss. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

“I bet you say that to all the drunks that come crying your way.”

Cate looked at him seriously. “No, I don’t. It doesn’t matter to me if I tell people the harsh truth.” Cate took the empty glass from in front of Elijah and placed it with the other dirty glasses behind the bar. “Now, it’s two thirty. You go back to your friends and do whatever it is you American rockers do.”

“Billy’s Scottish and Dom and Orlando are English. I’m the only American in the band,” Elijah said, standing from the stool and pulling out his wallet. He dropped the money for his tab, plus a rather generous tip for Cate, onto the bar.

“It was nice meeting you, Elijah,” Cate said, leaning against the bar.

“You’ll see me around again. Maybe I’ll even bring the guys in for drinks one night.” Elijah stuffed his near empty pack of cigarettes into his pocket. He’d have to stop and get some before returning.

“I’d like that.”

Elijah waved to Cate as he exited the pub, only slightly buzzed. He wasn’t drunk, but talking to Cate was the nicest thing he’d done in a while.

*

Orlando walked through the familiar halls of the manor to the kitchen, loosening his tie on the way. He was dead tired, starving, and in need of a beer. When he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to see Billy standing there making a sandwich.

“Hey,” Orlando said, going straight to the refrigerator and opening the door. He grabbed a beer from the top shelf and a container of take away and kicked the door shut behind him. Billy gathered up the ingredients he was using to make his sandwich and stepped over to the refrigerator to put them away.

“How did it go?” Billy returned to the island, pulled out a stool and sat down. Orlando leaned a hip against the counter and took a long swig from his beer.

“There’s nothing worse than picking out the coffin for the father you hated and who disowned you. My sister hasn't even come in from London. And my mother…” Orlando glanced at his hands and shook his head. “You’d think the fucking arse didn’t beat her through half their marriage.” Orlando opened the container and moved some of the noodles around with his fork, but decided it was beyond even his standards of edible. He pushed it away in disgust.

“That bad, huh?” Billy offered Orlando his sandwich and Orlando took it gladly. He chewed, lost in his thoughts. He’d stood in the funeral parlor, making all the arrangements because his mother was too messed up to do it. She clung to Orlando’s arm, sobbing uncontrollably into one of his father’s handkerchiefs. He couldn’t react, because his mum took everything the wrong way. If he was upset, she couldn’t deal with it because she needed her baby boy to be strong for her. If he was angry or emotionless, she accused him of being heartless and an ungrateful child. So he stood stoically, patting her arm and whispering condolences at the right moments.

Orlando handed the sandwich back to Billy and ran a hand through his messy curls. “Why did the selfish fuck have to die? Just like him.” Orlando blinked back tears, adhering to the promise he made himself on the plane. He’d cried then and he wouldn’t anymore. There was no room for that in this family.

“He was your father regardless,” Billy said quietly. “Losing a parent is the hardest thing for a child to do, whether you’re twelve, twenty five, or forty.”

“I didn’t even like him Billy!” Orlando said loudly. He immediately looked behind him, expecting to see his mother standing behind him. She was probably holed up in her room in the other side of the house, half a bottle of vicodin washed down with a bottle of vodka. “I hated him,” Orlando whispered. “When I found out he died, part of me didn’t even care. Then I thought about growing up, him teaching me how to play football, taking me and my sister to the carnival, going hunting on horseback. And I cried. But that man isn’t the same man who beat my mother, beat my sister and me, and fucking disowned me.” Orlando choked back a sob, turned away from Billy and wiped at his eyes hastily. He reached behind him to grab his beer, but knocked it over. “Fuck!”

Orlando jumped to clean it up, but Billy was faster. Orlando just covered his face with his hands. When Billy had cleaned up Orlando’s mess, he leaned on the counter beside Orlando, arms, hips, and legs pressed against Orlando’s.

“You can cry,” Billy said quietly, almost inaudible. “It’s not weakness.”

“I’m afraid if I start I won’t stop.” Orlando stared straight ahead, eyes focused on the set of identical jars lining the top of the cabinets. He noticed a small chip in one of the jars, white ceramic marring the perfect blue.

“It gets easier, you know. And one day, you realize you'll haven’t thought about them in weeks.”

“I’m burying a man I hated, Billy. I have to sit there and listen to people talk about how wonderful he was and tell me how fucking sorry they are because he’s dead and what a loss it must be for my family. And the fact that I feel like that upsets me more than anything.”

Billy shifted and took Orlando’s hand in his own, intertwining their fingers. Orlando gripped it tightly, resting his head atop Billy’s.

*

Orlando stood in the doorway of his father’s study. The lights were off, but he could discern the outlines of a desk, bookcase, and chair in the darkness. The room smelled heavily of cigar smoke and brandy.

Stepping hesitantly inside, he flipped the light switch. The room looked exactly like his father had left only hours before. Papers scattered the desktop, a suit jacket hung over the leather armchair, and as Orlando approached the desk, he noticed a half empty glass of alcohol.

Orlando pulled out the large desk chair and sat down. The scent of his father was all around, consuming him. He felt sick, a dread and fear he hadn’t felt since the night he’d lain bleeding on the bathroom floor. It was the same terror that coursed through his veins every time he was near his father, the impending knowledge that even if it wasn’t this particular day, it wouldn’t be long until his father snapped and Orlando would feel his wrath.

Orlando pushed the half-empty glass to the rear of the desk with the back of his hand. Behind the desk on a small table sat a collection of expensive crystal glasses. Orlando turned around and picked up the brandy bottle and poured some into a glass. He propped his feet up on the edge of the desk, the soles of his boots spreading dirt all over the surface, and lifted the glass to his lips.

He didn’t know why he was there, sitting in the room his father spent the majority of his time in. He used to only leave the room to eat and sleep. But Orlando felt like he needed to be there, to face his father, even if it was only his memory. The guys had always been there to help him through everything. Dom had doctored busted lips and helped him cover bruises for years. Billy had listened to him talk about everything into the early hours of the morning, empty beer bottles surrounding them. And even Elijah helped, just by being there and giving _him_ someone to protect instead of only having to be protected. They couldn’t help him now; this was something he needed to do himself. But he found no peace, just hollowness inside. There would be no reconciliation, no happy family reunions where his father would welcome his successful musician son and his boyfriend home with open arms. Just this, and Orlando would never get his say.

He finished the brandy and sat the glass on the desk, twirling it idly between his fingers.

“Don’t tell me you’re upset because he’s dead.”

Orlando looked up in surprise. He hadn’t even heard anyone come in, and he was quite shocked to see his sister standing in the doorway.

“You’re not even mildly upset he’s dead? He was your father, Sam.” Orlando dropped his feet to the floor and sat up. He poured himself another glass of alcohol. “Brandy?”

“You’re so pathetic, Orlando.” Samantha walked across the room and sat on the edge of the desk, crossing her long legs. She was tall and slender like him, but her skin more fair and her presence more demanding. “Sitting in his study, drinking his brandy, and getting all choked up.”

“How can you be so heartless?”

“Heartless? I’m not heartless, I’m just not going to mourn a man I hated and who made my life a living hell. And if you were honest with yourself, you’d realize you weren’t that upset either.” Samantha pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket and handed one to Orlando before lighting her own. “But you always did have more affection for the bloody fucker than he deserved. Always trying to please and always the favorite.”

“After the hell you put them through it’s no wonder,” Orlando teased, but immediately sobered. “But they didn’t disown you.”

“Father didn’t disown you, you prat. Beating you to a pulp and disowning you are two different things. Who would take over his prized estate if you weren’t here?”

“Sam, I haven’t spoken to him in a year. I ran off to America with a bunch of gay rockers, not exactly the idea Lord Harold Bloom had for his perfect son.” Orlando brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply. It had already burned down halfway.

“How’s that going? I haven’t heard from you in months. I was starting to think you’d gotten killed in a New York alleyway.” Sam crushed out her cigarette and immediately lit another.

“Dom left the band. But he’s here, so I don’t know what in the hell is going on.”

“Dom’s a prat, but he knows that. He’s not going to leave. He loves the music too much and more than that he loves you too much.” Sam shifted so she faced Orlando more fully and raised an eyebrow. “How’re things with Billy?”

Orlando slumped back into the chair and shook his head. “Wish I knew.”

“Is he here?”

“Somewhere.”

Sam pursed her lips in disapproval. “You two need to either fuck or get the fuck over it. All this brooding over one another and together then not then repeat is getting annoying.”

“Fuck you,” Orlando sneered. “It’s not as easy as fucking or getting the fuck over it.”

“Listen,” she said more seriously. “You two love each other. It’s so bloody obvious that anyone within a thousand feet of you can notice. But either it’s going to work or it’s not. Neither of you should just sit around waiting.”

“I’d rather wait than be with someone else,” Orlando said firmly.

“I’ll never understand you.” Sam stood up, walked over to Orlando, and kissed his head. “Glad you’re home, baby brother. I missed you.”

*

Elijah groaned when he felt something kick his leg. He ignored it, but he felt it again. Rolling over closer to the wall, he pulled the pillow over his head and drifted immediately back to sleep.

“Get up, cunt!” Dom yelled in his ear. Elijah lifted his head from underneath the pillow and glared at him. Dom sat on the bed beside him and held his glasses in his hand. “What in the bloody name of all that is musical are you listening to?”

Elijah grabbed his glasses and slipped them on his face, and then turned his back to Dom. “It’s Johnny Cash.”

“You hate country music. Why in the hell are you listening to this crap?” Dom poked him repeatedly in the side, and Elijah swatted at his hand.

“Johnny Cash is the exception.”

“Where did you get it? You don’t own it and I know Orlando doesn’t own it.” Dom ceased poking him.

“Bought it in a CD shop I passed on the way back.” Dom shifted and began tickling Elijah instead. Elijah shrieked and rolled onto his back, trying to push Dom away from him. He finally scooted up until he was sitting against the head board, and Dom stopped, grinning at him triumphantly.

“You suck so bad. You know how much I fucking hate that.”

“I know,” Dom said. “That’s why I did it.”

“Go to hell.”

“So grumpy! It’s not my fault you didn’t sleep and went out drinking instead.”

Elijah slid back down into the bed and snuggled under the blankets. “How did you know I went out drinking?”

Dom leaned close to Elijah’s face and sniffed. “You reek.”

“What do you want?” Dom’s face was still close, mere inches from his own, and Elijah alternately wanted to kiss him and punch him. He really wanted Dom to just go away.

“Get up, you lazy arse. We’re going out.” Dom jumped from the bed and threw the blankets from Elijah’s body, leaving him lying there in nothing but his boxers.

“It’s fucking cold!” Elijah shouted. He curled into himself and Dom rolled his eyes.

“You act like I’ve never seen you naked,” Dom said. “I don’t care if you are hung over. We’re taking Orlando out and that’s final.”

“Fine!” Elijah jumped up, coming face to face with Dom. They stared at each other evenly for a moment, until Elijah turned away and grabbed his jeans from a crumpled pile in the floor and pulled them on.

*

“Are you going to spend all night brooding at the bar?” Dom said, squeezing in beside Elijah and leaning against the bar.

“What’s it to you?” Elijah finished off his Tom Collins and set the glass on the counter.

“I wanna dance, that’s what.” Dom grabbed Elijah’s hand, but Elijah pulled away from his grasp.

“What about your girlfriend? Won’t _Miranda_ be pissed you’re dancing with other people? Especially one of your band members?” Elijah couldn’t keep the contempt out of his voice.

“We’re not together anymore,” Dom said quietly. Elijah couldn’t quite believe his ears and leaned closer.

“What did you just say?”

“We’re not together. We broke up. Finished. No more.” Dom glanced out onto the dance floor, and Elijah stared at him, gaping.

“You broke up? Why?” Elijah couldn’t believe his ears. This was the first he’d heard about Dom and Miranda splitting up, and he couldn’t stop the excitement and hope from bubbling inside his chest.

Dom shrugged. “We just did. It was time to move on.” Dom slipped from the bar and turned around to Elijah. “Coming?”

Elijah jumped from the bar and followed Dom, but not to the dance floor. Dom pushed through hoards of gyrating bodies to the bathroom. Elijah gawked as Dom led them past couples fucking right there and into a stall. It was like nothing Elijah had ever seen before.

Elijah locked the door behind them and Dom pulled a small plastic bag from his pocket and dangled it in front of Elijah’s face. Inside were two small pills.

“Billy would fucking kill you if he knew you bought drugs,” Elijah said, but took the pill Dom offered him. He swallowed it down quickly.

“What Billy doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Dom said with a grin. Intertwining their fingers, Dom led Elijah back out onto the dance floor. As soon as they were in the middle of a group of people, Dom wrapped his arms around Elijah and kissed him. Elijah kissed him back eagerly, Dom’s hands roaming over his body and deftly undoing the fly on his jeans.

“What’re you doing?” Elijah asked, surprised when Dom slipped his hand inside his boxers and grabbed his cock. “We’re in the middle of the dance floor!”

“Do you want me to stop?” Dom asked, smirk on his face. Elijah shook his head, and Dom nipped at his lips. “I didn’t think so.” Dom wrapped his fingers around Elijah’s cock and circled his thumb around the head. “Look around,” Dom whispered in Elijah’s ear, licking the lobe. “Everyone is fucking.”

Elijah looked around the dance floor with heavy lidded eyes. Dom was right; people were in various states of undress and sexual positions. Elijah moaned and buried his face into Dom’s shoulder.

He unbuttoned Dom’s trousers and slid his hand inside, muffling a moan when he grasped Dom’s cock. They barely moved to the music, swaying slightly, hands jerking as they kissed. Dom’s tongue was hot and soft inside of Elijah’s mouth, and he had a million things going through his head. The drug was seeping through his veins and every touch of Dom’s hand, every brush of his lips or sweep of his tongue was like sensory overload for Elijah. He felt like his skin was actually sinking into Dom’s, his arm melting into the smooth flesh of Dom’s neck.

“Fuck,” Elijah breathed as he came, dragging his nose along Dom’s damp neck. Dom stroked his cock as few more times, and then pulled his hand away. Elijah felt the emptiness immediately, and stepped even closer to Dom. He worked his hand even faster, gliding quickly along Dom’s shaft, the sound of Dom’s soft moans echoing in his head. He felt Dom come over his hand, and he reluctantly let go.

He wrapped his hands around Dom’s neck and pressed his lips against Dom’s again, this time softer, slower.

“I’m so fucked up,” Elijah whispered against Dom’s lips. Dom kissed his way across Elijah’s neck, stopping to nibble at his collarbone.

“We both are.”

*

“Two shots of tequila,” Billy shouted to the bartender. He handed one to Orlando, but Orlando shook his head.

“No, Billy.” He pushed it back towards him, but Billy picked it up and shoved it in his face.

“You’re getting trashed with me, and that’s final.”

Orlando took the shot glass and lifted it in salute before throwing it back. He grimaced and sucked greedily at the lemon in his hand. Billy immediately handed him another shot.

“The last thing I need to do is get trashed.” Orlando downed the next shot and slammed the glass onto the counter.

“No. That’s exactly what you need. We’re going to forget about everything.” Billy flashed him a smile and Orlando could do nothing but agree. Billy could have told him that the two of them needed to jump off the Tower of London and he would have agreed.

After six shots, Billy got off the barstool and grabbed Orlando’s hands, pulling Orlando off his stool and dragging him through the mass of people.

“You’re going to dance with me,” Billy whispered against his ear. He stopped in the middle of the crowded dance floor and pulled Orlando close to him. Orlando’s arms immediately circled Billy’s waist and drew him close.

The music pounded in Orlando’s ears, and he moved with it, body swaying quickly, hips glued to Billy’s. Billy’s fingers raked through his hair, curling his fingers against Orlando’s skin. Orlando pulled Billy closer to him.

“What are we doing?” Orlando breathed against Billy’s cheek, lips brushing against his warm skin. Billy turned his face and Orlando rested his forehead against Billy’s.

“We’re dancing.”

Orlando’s mind raced in a haze of drunken thoughts. Billy's mouth was so close to his own, yet it still felt like they were miles apart. But they were together, touching, Orlando's fingers gripping Billy's arms as they danced. There was no rhyme or reason for this, to be dancing like this, but he knew Billy wasn’t thinking either, just giving in to the need to _feel_ each other.

And Orlando didn’t care why it was happening as long as it was.

~fin  



End file.
